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That’s why I turned your routine into our little nightly tradition.
In my glass there was only my favorite bitter fruit juice.
I took it with you so you would never feel like you were doing something alone.
Forgive me for having insisted so much on maintaining our little custom.
Perhaps one day you would understand why it meant so much to me.
I just wanted you to be able to enjoy a long and peaceful life.
I held the letter in my hands for a few moments.
For thirty-five years I had thought that Victor simply had a strange habit that he never wanted to explain.
Now he understood that for him that small tradition meant much more.
It was a way of sharing a special moment with me every night.
Since then, when nine o’clock arrives, I sometimes put two glasses back on the table.
One contains my usual preparation.
The other one was the bitter fruit juice that Victor enjoyed so much.
I raise my glass to the empty chair and say:
—A glass for another day and for the thirty-five years we shared.